


If You'd Only

by swimmingwolf59



Category: DAYS (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Friends With Benefits, M/M, Minor Violence, Slow Burn, The rating will probably go up later I haven't quite decided how I'm going to handle it yet
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-26
Updated: 2017-05-26
Packaged: 2018-11-05 02:10:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11003796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swimmingwolf59/pseuds/swimmingwolf59
Summary: Ooshiba and Kimishita aren't friends. At least, not anymore. So really, Ooshiba has no idea how the hell it turned into THIS, but he's not backing out now, for better or for worse.





	If You'd Only

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shikamika](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shikamika/gifts).



> HAPPY BIRTHDAY ANDREA!!!!! 
> 
> I think (hope) I got the time difference right! XD I know you're in kuromana hell right now, but I hope you enjoy the shibakimi anyway xP I LOVE YOU AND I HOPE YOU HAVE A WONDERFUL LAZY DAY BECAUSE YOU DESERVE IT!!! <3 
> 
> This fic is loosely based off the song Yes by Coldplay that can be listened to [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yyraA41XuKg)  
> This song always makes me think of shibakimi, so yeah xD;; The fic title and most of the chapter titles also come from this song c: 
> 
> Hope you enjoy and thanks for reading!!

It took Ooshiba about four years to realize that he spent _way_ too much time staring at Kimishita’s lips.

To be fair, the first two years of that were spent coming to terms with the fact that he didn’t like girls as much as he always bragged he did, and then realizing it didn’t matter because he was awesome anyway. He remembered distinctly, however (and prayed that Kimishita didn’t), an awkward conversation he’d had with his friend at the time about how he didn’t think girls were as pretty as guys, which would have been fine if he hadn’t then gone on to say that he thought Kimishita was prettier than anyone else he had ever met. Needless to say there was a lot of blushing and yelling before Kimishita quietly admitted that he liked guys too and that he thought Ooshiba was pretty, too.

And really, whatever was going to happen between the two of them should have started then.

But for some reason that Ooshiba still didn’t understand, the next year was spent growing apart from Kimishita.

Suddenly high school Kimishita was a lot different than middle school Kimishita. Kimishita had always been huffy, and really it would have been weird if they _weren’t_ yelling at each other about something, but at least in middle school there had been times of ceasefire. Kimishita had often come over to his house to play video games and hide and seek (just about the only thing living in a mansion was good for) and watch soccer matches on the big screen TV. Ooshiba had always felt proud of his rich heritage then; he’d found endless pleasure from seeing Kimishita’s awed and amazed expression and confirming that yes, this was how a _hero_ should live. Though he always enjoyed going over to Kimishita’s house too, climbing haphazardly on the shelves and ‘helping’ Kimishita’s dad in the kitchen, which really meant Ooshiba and Kimishita throwing tomatoes and other perishables at each other until they were messy and banned from the kitchen by Kimishita’s laughing father. He’d always been envious of Kimishita’s close relationship with his dad, not that he would _ever_ tell him that.

But for a period of time life was good. And Ooshiba didn’t know why it suddenly changed.

It was like Kimishita was suddenly seeing him for the first time, noticing every single one of the redhead’s flaws and not hesitating to crack down on it. It was like he hadn’t already known that Ooshiba was terrible at every subject but math, that he was still unused to his own height and therefore crashed into everything, that he was greedy and obnoxious on the soccer pitch, that he was lazy as hell everywhere else. And yet Kimishita still found the need to point every little thing out, nagging at him so much that it was no wonder Ooshiba started snapping back.

And it _hurt_. Kimishita had abruptly shoved Ooshiba out of his life, insisting he was too stupid to be worth hanging out with.

The worst part was that he didn’t even know _why_. He couldn’t think of anything that he had done that was unusual or anything that he’d said that could’ve been hurtful, and he was sure he would’ve known at the time if he had done something to upset him. Instead it was like a switch had gone off in Kimishita’s brain that suddenly made him hate him now and it was _awful_. Ooshiba prided himself on not caring what other people thought about him, but he hated feeling so stupid and worthless around Kimishita. He couldn’t turn off the part of him that believed he was constantly trying to keep up with the brunette in talent and wisdom and that he was never making any progress.

And of course he couldn’t erase the memories of when he and Kimishita had been best friends.

So of _course_ Ooshiba wouldn’t have been paying attention to how maybe he stared at Kimishita for too long in the locker rooms and how maybe he kind of sort of still thought he was pretty.

And then the last year was just filled with _fighting_. They fought about everything it seemed; soccer, schoolwork, food, even the very way Ooshiba _breathed_ sometimes. Ooshiba yelled at him for not passing him the ball during a match and Kimishita yelled at him for failing the biology test. Ooshiba yelled at him for standing too close to him and Kimishita yelled at him for freeloading off of him when their monetary situations suggested that they really should have been doing the opposite. Some of that was the same old same old, and at first Ooshiba had been hopeful that maybe nothing had actually changed.

But he also clearly remembered the day when he realized that everything _had_.

They had never exchanged hits before. Everything had been kept to verbal insults as kids, which had decidedly put Ooshiba at a disadvantage because of his poor vocabulary, but they always ended up laughing by the end of it and whatever they’d been fighting about would never be brought up again.

Kimishita had never punched him before.

It was the stupidest thing that had started it too. They’d been put on class clean up duty and had been arguing over who should scrape the gum off of the underside of the desks. Kimishita had screamed that Ooshiba should do it because it would be a menial task fit for his mental capacity, but the redhead had snarled back that the midfielder should do it because he was used to it, looking after the store and everything. And though that was typical dialogue between the two of them, something about it was different, and before Ooshiba knew it he was flat on his back on the ground, blood dripping out of his nose from the punch Kimishita had swung into his face.

And as he lay there, staring blankly up at the ceiling as his nose continued to bleed, Ooshiba had felt the last of his hope drain out of his body, sadness taking its place. He’d lost Kimishita’s friendship, and with what he was about to do he knew he would never get it back.

Despite how much his heart cried at him not to do it, Ooshiba stumbled to his feet and kneed Kimishita in the gut.

And that was the way it was ever since, their arguments quickly turning into physical violence that often got them benched until they could behave themselves, like the children they kept pretending to be. And that was the status their relationship was in when Ooshiba realized that he was truly, royally, and _heroically_ fucked.

Because he was 100% sure he had a crush on Kimishita.

From all of the movies he’d watched, Ooshiba had assumed that the moment he realized he was in love with someone would be something profound, a huge, spectacular event that he could romanticize about in his autobiography someday. However, it wasn’t like that at all: his crush on Kimishita had crept up on him slowly, so subtle that he couldn’t even pinpoint the exact moment when he’d consciously noticed its existence.

All he knew was that he was in love with his ex-best friend, and probably had been for some time, and it was putting him through hell.

How was he so screwed up that he loved the person who daily punched him in the face, insulted him, called him names? Was he some kind of masochist, or was he just reminiscing of the times when he and Kimishita had been more than just enemies?

And maybe that was part of the problem, too – what if his feelings were just leftover, based off some stupid middle school crush that he’d somehow never shaken?

But it sure as hell didn’t feel that way. Every day he found himself staring at Kimishita from across the room during class, his eyes trailing over the sharp lines of his face, pausing for a moment on the pretty color of his eyes, before eventually snagging on those damn pretty _lips_. He found himself daydreaming about what it would be like to kiss them, how soft they must feel. He wondered what kind of face Kimishita would make at him if he kissed him, if he would scowl or if he would shoot Ooshiba one of those rare tiny smiles that made the redhead’s insides twist like he was on a roller coaster. He wondered if he would be a tentative kisser or the kind that made their blood sing and their hearts race; Ooshiba personally hoped it would be some combination of both, and then the more he imagined it the more flustered he became.

So yes, he at least had physical attraction for his enemy, teammate, ex-friend, whatever the hell they were anymore, but he knew his emotions were more complicated than that, as much as he pretended they weren’t, and they kept him up late at night wondering if he should do anything about them. It was ridiculous – he should be focusing on getting their friendship back, not having romantic fantasies about him. If Kimishita didn’t even want to be his friend, there was no way he’d be up for a _romantic_ relationship.

And yet, he kept dreaming about those damn _lips_.

It was hard to be discrete about it, too; Kimishita always caught him, even when he thought for sure that he was far enough away that the brunette couldn’t notice him. He must have eyes on the back of his head, or some kind of potent sixth sense. Usually Kimishita got angry at him, snapping at him to stop looking at him, but sometimes, _sometimes_ he scoffed, a small grin on his face as he rolled his eyes at Ooshiba. When that happened Ooshiba’s chest rose in elation as he grinned so hugely that Kimishita probably thought he was an idiot, but he just couldn’t help it.

Whenever he reacted like that, it felt like they were friends again, and Ooshiba craved that as much as he craved being passed the ball during a game.

And maybe that was another reason why he was so fucked: the fact that Kimishita had never completely cut him off. They argued, and they fought, and Ooshiba often went home feeling like shit, angry and disappointed that it seemed like they could never go back to what they had before high school. But there were times when Ooshiba caught Kimishita smiling, or when he gave him soccer advice, or when they managed to hold a conversation and refrain from duking it out in the end, or when Kimishita still called him by his first name. And it was that that was slowly killing him on the inside, because he didn’t _understand_ it – did Kimishita hate him or not? Why would he act so violent and negative towards him and then turn around and compliment him on a goal or smirk at some stupid thing he said?

He wondered if it would be easier if Kimishita flat out hated him. It hurt to keep hoping; every time he hoped things would be going back to normal Kimishita would snap at him and hit him and Ooshiba would angrily promise himself that he’d forget about that stupid asshole and just focus on soccer and showing off, the things he did best.

But every time he fell back to watching Kimishita, aching inside for something _more_.  

What would it take to make Kimishita like him again?

Ooshiba’s crush on Kimishita was a couple months old by the time they started their second year of high school. The redhead was hoping that the new year would bring some changes to their relationship, but it was the same as it ever was: Kimishita was angry and Ooshiba was hopelessly in love. They went to soccer practice, they argued, they fought, and the freshmen were scared of both of them. The main difference now was that Tsukamoto was there, who was the only person who had ever attempted to stop their fighting. Ooshiba had a small, irrational hope in him that maybe his meddling would make Kimishita see reason, but of course it didn’t; instead they both turned their anger on the small freshman before storming off in opposite directions.

It was horrible, and worse than ever. At this rate they’d kill each other before Ooshiba could figure out how to tell Kimishita how he felt.  

However, what he couldn’t have even begun to fathom was that, against all belief, this year _would_ change everything.

It started, as most things seemed to be with them, over something stupid.

Kimishita had, surprisingly, offered to help Ooshiba study for his chemistry exam, and despite the sickening topic the redhead had jumped on the opportunity. He was practically desperate to hang out with his teammate, clinging at any remains of their middle school friendship. Kimishita had chosen an empty classroom for the study session after soccer practice one day; Ooshiba wondered why they didn’t just go to one of their houses, but he was too afraid to ask, worried he’d piss the other off and then he’d storm off and leave Ooshiba with nothing.

So for once in his life he zipped his lip and just silently followed Kimishita into the classroom.

“Okay, so what exactly is it that you don’t understand?” Kimishita asked when they’d sat at two desks near the back and pulled their stuff out of their backpacks. Ooshiba watched with great interest as the brunette put on his glasses, the simple addition making the other about ten times hotter. Noticing his gaze on him, like he always did, Kimishita looked up at him and scowled. “Kiichi?”

The use of his first name was enough to jar him out of his daze, as it always was. Shrugging, Ooshiba threw his feet up onto an adjacent desk and lounged back in his chair. “Everything.”

Kimishita rolled his eyes. “Do you even _try_ to understand anything?”

“ _Yes_ , I _do_ ,” Ooshiba snapped, glaring at the other and ignoring the quiet _sometimes_ his mind whispered, “It’s not my fault only Martians would be able to understand chemistry.”

He’d meant it as an insult, but for some reason Kimishita looked pleased. That crazy bastard – did he actually _like_ being compared to an alien? Well, now that he thought about it, being an alien would be pretty cool…

“ _Kiichi_ ,” Kimishita hissed, sighing as Ooshiba snapped to attention again. “How the hell are we going to do this if you’re spacing out _already_? Do you even want my help?”

“Yes!” Ooshiba shouted desperately. The thought of Kimishita leaving already sent a stab of panic through his chest. “You have to help me, Kimishita, I’m going to fail!”

To his utter dismay, Kimishita’s eyes just narrowed. “Oh, so now I _have_ to help you, is that it? You think I’m just some servant that you can boss around?”

Ooshiba’s eyes were wide; why was Kimishita taking everything so seriously? Obviously Ooshiba didn’t think of him like that… He was awesome and amazing and Kimishita should feel like he _wanted_ to help him achieve greater heights, should feel _privileged_ that he swallowed his pride enough to ask him in the first place, but he wasn’t his _servant_. Everything with Kimishita was so confusing now; why couldn’t they go back to the harmless teasing from before?

Ooshiba swallowed. His next word strangled in his throat, but he felt like he didn’t have a choice but to say it, “Please.”

Kimishita scrutinized him for a moment but, to Ooshiba’s relief, seemed to accept it. The redhead watched him flip through his notebook until he landed on a page with a confusing scrawl of chemical equations. “Alright, I guess we’ll start with how to balance an equation then…”

Ooshiba struggled to pay attention as Kimishita walked him through the steps. It wasn’t as hard as he’d originally thought, but he kept getting distracted. Every time Ooshiba scribbled an answer, Kimishita would lean over to look at it, his face so close that the redhead’s pulse started galloping uncontrollably. The brunette smelled like whoever’s shampoo had been passed around in the showers earlier today as well as his own musky scent that was quickly turning Ooshiba into a mushy puddle. He wanted nothing more than to toss his chemistry notes to the side and bury his face in Kimishita’s hair, inhale his scent, hold him in his arms.

The longing was unbearable, and it was only worse when Kimishita was actually explaining things to him. Whenever he talked, Ooshiba watched the way his lips moved, wondered for the millionth time what it would be like to kiss him. He imagined leaning over to shut him up by pressing their lips together. It would start off slow, Kimishita too surprised to respond very much, but then his tongue would dart out and…

“Are you even listening to what I’m saying?!” Kimishita snapped suddenly, the acid dripping into his voice breaking Ooshiba from his trance. He blinked once, twice. Nope, he had no recollection of what the midfielder had just said to him; guess he hadn’t been listening at all, and still wasn’t really. Not that he could when Kimishita’s scowl looked _so damn nice_ on his face. “Why the hell do you always stare at me like that? If you’ve got something to say then say it!!”

Ooshiba huffed, the dare itching its way under his skin. “Fine, maybe I will!”

Maybe it was because he’d been caught daydreaming about it. Maybe it was because they were alone in a classroom and Kimishita was actually being mostly civil with him. Maybe he really was falling for the dare. Or maybe he was just stupid.

Either way, Ooshiba threw all caution to the wind and, acting purely on impulse, leaned forward and kissed Kimishita.

For a few heavenly seconds, it was everything Ooshiba had dreamed it would be. Kimishita’s lips were soft, impossibly so, and yet firm in a way that made the redhead’s blood boil in his veins. It felt so good that for a second he forgot that this kiss had the highest stakes, that by doing this he had sacrificed everything he’d worked so hard to preserve.  

And it was only after he’d been awkwardly drowning in heaven for those precious few seconds that he realized Kimishita wasn’t kissing him back. Cold fingers seemed to wrap around his heart, squeezing tighter and tighter as he flinched back from Kimishita, mortified and _afraid_. Goddammit, what had he been thinking?! Now Kimishita would hate him more than ever!

“Shit—” he said, standing up abruptly and with such clumsy force that he knocked his desk over, pencils and notebooks scattering everywhere with a clamor that sounded way too loud compared to Kimishita’s deadly silence. He didn’t know what to say or to do, so he just stared down at his shoes as he racked his brain for something to say that would make the situation better. “Kimishita, I—”

But he didn’t get a chance to say anything more before Kimishita was suddenly standing too and yanking him down by his hair to slam their lips together.

If Ooshiba had thought the one-sided kiss from before was good, this was even better. Kimishita’s lips moved against his so fiercely and effectively it didn’t even seem humanly possible, making Ooshiba groan at the pleasure. _Fuck_ he was a good kisser – better than he had ever imagined!

However, competitiveness soon rose in Ooshiba – he didn’t want to be the _bad_ kisser in this, whatever this was. Growling lowly in the back of his throat, he pushed Kimishita back until he had him pinned against one of the desks, grasping his teammate’s hair in his hands as he angled his head so that he could kiss him better. Kimishita’s breaths were hot on his face as he moaned, to Ooshiba’s extreme satisfaction; he had no idea he could get this aroused this quickly.

But everything Kimishita did seemed to set him on fire; the way their lips pressed together, clumsily but frantically, Kimishita’s nails digging into his scalp, his growing interest pressed against his thigh driving him crazy. Ooshiba groaned in drunken pleasure as he caught Kimishita’s bottom lip between his teeth and rolled their hips together, his arousal so strong his knees shook.

“F- _fuck_!” Kimishita groaned into Ooshiba’s mouth, and the redhead was so utterly distracted by this that he loosened his hold, just for a second, which turned out to be all that his teammate needed.   

He grunted in surprise as Kimishita grabbed onto his shirt, using it as leverage to push him down into a chair so hard that the redhead nearly fell over backwards from the force of it. He was even more surprised when Kimishita climbed onto his lap, straddling him roughly as he grabbed his chin and pulled him into a passionate kiss again.

Though he was rattled and disoriented, Ooshiba managed to realize that Kimishita fucking Atsushi was _sitting in his lap_ , and suddenly it was like nothing or no one else existed in the entire world. His blood singing in his veins, Ooshiba snaked his arms around Kimishita’s slim waist and kissed him back with as much passion as he could pour into it.

Fuck, fuck, _fuck!!_ He’d had no idea kissing Kimishita could be this good, could be this _intoxicating_. He wanted to kiss him for the rest of his life, to hell with breathing!

Kimishita’s teeth snagged on Ooshiba’s bottom lip, probably revenge for earlier, making the redhead let out an embarrassingly loud moan. His hips bucked upwards, seemingly of their own accord, causing them to both groan as their growing interests rubbed together. Oh fuck, Ooshiba could barely even process what was happening he was so aroused – all he knew was that he wanted to _devour_ Kimishita.

Opening his mouth, Ooshiba darted his tongue out to lick along Kimishita’s lips, his hands roaming up underneath the other’s shirt. Kimishita practically snarled into his mouth, making Ooshiba’s hair stand on end as the brunette opened his mouth to twist their tongues together. As if that wasn’t already making Ooshiba ache with longing, Kimishita’s fingers wound their way into his hair, tugging at the strands so hard that Ooshiba _lost it_.

His hands flew down to grip Kimishita’s ass almost out of reflex, causing the other to moan and buck into his hips as Ooshiba forced his way into the other’s mouth. _God_ he tasted wonderful – the more Ooshiba explored, the more he ached for more; he wanted to taste everything this beautiful boy had to offer him.

And he wanted it _now_.

“K-Kimishita,” he panted, his hands tugging at the waistline of Kimishita’s boxers. “I want— I want—”

But they never figured out what Ooshiba wanted, or how far they would’ve gone, because a loud shout suddenly sounded right outside the classroom. They both froze, like deer caught in headlights. If someone walked in on them right now, the evidence would be incriminating—both of their lips bruised and bleeding, Ooshiba’s hands practically down Kimishita’s pants—and yet neither of them could move. Instead they both sat there, neither of them breathing, staring at each other as they waited, waited, _waited_. Ooshiba’s heart was just about exploding out of his chest, and he wondered if Kimishita could hear it.

The shout came again closer this time, close enough for them to tell that it was a girl angrily snarling at someone else outside in the hallway. Ooshiba narrowed his eyes – it sounded like that one girl… That pink-haired girl who was their manager or something…

Female Manager shouted something else, before the unmistakable sound of Kazama’s laughter echoed through the hallway. The loud stomping of feet running on the floor came closer and closer to their room before flying past them and continuing on down the hallway. Both Ooshiba and Kimishita visibly relaxed when the sounds started retreating, but still neither of them moved.

It was only when it was completely silent that Kimishita pushed himself off of Ooshiba’s lap. The sudden emptiness the redhead felt once Kimishita was no longer touching him was startling – his body seemed too hot and yet not hot enough, missing the warmth that he now craved more than ever.

“K-Kimishita…” he croaked, but he didn’t know what to say. His brain was fried and all he could process was the look of the boy in front of him.

Kimishita’s eyes were blown wide, either from shock or something else Ooshiba couldn’t tell, his hair messy and sticking out in awkward angles from where the redhead had tugged at it. His face was flushed and _oh fuck his lips looked so GREAT bruised_ ; Ooshiba could hardly believe he’d been the cause for this utterly _sexy_ look on the other. He reached an arm out, another sharp pang of arousal shooting through his belly, but Kimishita twisted away from his reach and started hurriedly shoving things into his bag.

“I, uh, I should go…” Kimishita glanced at him once before sharply turning away. Ooshiba was barely paying attention; he could still taste Kimishita on his tongue.

Licking his lips, Ooshiba watched Kimishita run out of the classroom and wondered where this left them now.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm going to apologize in advance for the 20 years it'll take me to update this fic again because:  
> 1\. School sucks  
> 2\. I have way too many ongoing projects for my own good  
> 3\. I am the worst updater in the history of the world 
> 
> But I appreciate all who read, leave kudos, comment, or just enjoy, so thank you :') 
> 
> Find me on twitter @kaoru_of_hakone if you want to chat! :3


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